A Pandaren's Woes
by Kieve Grove
Summary: This is my first story, so reviews would be appreciated! One-Shot. A lone pandaren is in Nagrand, reflecting on his life and how everything's turned out since Mists of Pandaria.


The tall grasses of Nagrand swayed in the breeze as a large pandaren hiked through the twists and turns of the cliffs. His eyes wandered from the trail he was walking to the ground below him. A herd of colorful talbuks ran across rolling plains as brown wolves slowing started to catch up. Beautiful white birds, not unlike the ones he had see in the Valley of the Four Winds, swooped towards the cherry trees in pursuit of a midday snack. A Draenei caravan was marching across the rocky trail towards Telaar to deliver resources for the post. This beautiful view calmed the lone pandaren. However, he wasn't here to observe the foreign fauna that Draenor had to offer.

Ever since he had been deployed to help pursue the Iron Horde, he had had the strangest feeling. An aching, almost unbearable, desire to get up and do something, but he didn't know what. At first, he tried to battle the seemingly endless armies of orcs, but they quickly overwhelmed him as his commands weren't keen on keeping them off of a mediocre healer. Even so, a rugged dwarven adventurer had walked up to him while he had been observing the crowds in Ashran and asked if he would help run his garrison. Eagerly, he had accepted, but he didn't know why he was recruiting him of all the people he could of chosen.

He hadn't done anything in Pandaria as he was too busy drinking away his woes and Draenor hadn't proven any better. If anything, he thought he had been recruited to brew alcohol or weave cloth. Why else would this hero keep him while he had let go of other, more skilled men in order to keep the simple pandaren?

While the pandaren would wander around the garrison and ponder the question, the commander would lead daring assaults against the Iron Horde. He adventured throughout the entire world, in a never ending quest for glory and loot. His determination and success made him a favorite of the Alliance army, eventually a commander. His followers also had reverence for their leader, even when he was drunk and mooning the crowds around him, but none cared more for the adventurer than the pandaren. After all, he had given him a home and someone to help him through his depression.

Truly a great leader, the pandaren didn't want to disappoint. He volunteered for mission after mission, but he failed the majority of them. The commander tried sending his most skilled soldiers to guide him in his journey, but none of the men could help the pathetic pandaren. His commander was rapidly losing his patience. If he wasn't careful, he'd be forced to work as a tailor to contribute to the war effort. Or he could be kicked out and then what?

He had no home after the two warring factions destroyed any opportunity to return to a quiet life on the Wandering Isle. After a few kind souls from the factions healed Shen-zin Su, the rest split his family in their hatred for each other, his daughter leaving for the Horde and himself for the Alliance. He still remembered walking outside the Temple of Five Dawn and arguing with her about where to go. She had sympathized with the captured Horde prisoners while he was interested in the diverse cultures and beers of the Alliance. After all, the humans had spoken of murderous orcs and undead while they were the ideal society. However, his daughter disagreed.

"Father, these people were taken prisoner by the crew. I doubt that they're as diligent as they claim to be." She said anxiously, tending to his wound.

"But they have many proud kingdoms! With beer!" he protested. What could wrong with some good beers between them?

She suddenly stopped working. His arm was bleeding from a nasty gash a saurok had left while he was defending the priests and healers.

"Is that all you care about? Your cozy drinks and a warm bed for yourself? These people need help!" Her anger flustered as she began losing her patience. She caught herself though, taking deep breathes in.

"If you can't muster up any sympathy, I suppose you really do belong with them!" She turned around and walked away, leaving behind a flustered man with no words to describe his feelings. That was the last time he ever saw her before leaving with the grand Alliance.

His first day in the Alliance was spent in the Dwarven District, trying exotic brews. The next day he woke up in a large and cozy bed in a nearby inn after passing out and having some employees carry him out where customers wouldn't see him. He came back to the bar every day for what seemed like an eternity, distracting himself from his loneliness. When he wasn't chugging down brews, he'd be speaking with the local residents. Nasty rumors of the opposing faction filled his imagination with their cruelty. Cannibalism, torture, some sort of "plague", racism, and more were all gossip in the booming city. 'How could she leave for such a disgraceful herd of hooligans?' he often thought whilst getting another to chug down.

After a while of this, stories emerged of a conflict within the city of Orgimmar. Many of the other races were rebelling against the "Orcish Horde" and their foul ideas. Stories of all races banding together certainly excited the pandaren, especially of the horde pandaren. 'So she did regret it,' he thought, 'at least she's trying to do the right thing.' Maybe, just maybe, he'd forgive her for everything she said and everything he did.

Those hopes were crushed though. He had volunteered to help siege Orgimmar, only to find his daughter in a pool of her own blood. From what he was able to gather, she hadn't been able to escape the city before the Kor'Kron got a hold of her and began interrogating her for some pandaren artifacts, none of which she was able to give. They tried torturing her, only to beat her until the Alliance troops arrived and stopped the violence.

He still remembered holding her cold body as her vital signs began slowing even further. She had opened her eyes to see her father sobbing into her robe, praying for a miracle. He was frantically apologizing, hoping that maybe his repent would save her from an early death. Her lips ever-so slightly moved as she whispered in his right ear, "I forgive you, father." before becoming limp and ice cold. All he could do was hold her tighter, just until the chaos stopped and they could leave. He stayed with her body until the raiding party came back. Garrosh was to be put on trial for the sake of his people, they said, but that was of no consolation.

The trial came and went. He spent that time mourning her death; burying her in the Valley of Four Winds. She would have loved her grave site with all the birds flying above and Halfhill a few minutes away. She had always wanted to find Pandaria and visit all the temples, or so she told her peers. Only he knew that she always dreamed of living by a farm and visiting the markets every day. she said that she enjoyed the tranquility of it all whenever they visited the Dai-Lo farms.

He was praying when news of the former Warchief landed upon his ears. Apparently, he had escaped to an alternate timeline of Draenor with the aid of a bronze dragon. He didn't understand much, but he knew he had to go avenge everything he had lost, including his blood shed of the of the war-loving orc had cost him everything and he intended to make him pay for his mistakes. He volunteered to go, but only until Garrosh died.

Now that the tyrant was dead, the pandaren was on top of the mountains of Nagrand. It was similar to the Valley where his daughter was buried, he thought. Oh death, sweet death. How he would welcome it. He had no home, no family, and no hope. He was failing as a healer, a follower, and most of all, as a pandaren. He had overheard that the commander was frustrated with him and was planning on booting him from his personal army. Garrosh was dead as well, so he was content. No matter what he did, could do, or would do, his life had no more meaning to fulfil, nothing left to do. He had wrestled with his conscious for a long time now, but he finally had his answer to life: He had no more purpose. There was nothing more he could do, no matter how much he wanted to help anyone out. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath in. His toes were off the ledge when he pushed himself towards the ground and sprung back up, propelling him at forward, like the birds his daughter adored to watch. He fell towards the empty abyss, praying to meet his daughter one final time.


End file.
